Boys Will Be Boys
by Nyx6
Summary: We all know the boys like the ladies, but why do we never see the same woman twice? Are the break-ups mutual? Well in this case, not exactly. Which is why running into a furious ex is the last thing the dynamic duo need after a hard day!


Okay, so I couldn't resist this! Hope you enjoy!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As a child Raymond Doyle had accompanied his mother to the shops every Wednesday morning. He could remember this clearly. Trotting along beside her as she traversed the aisles, one fist clutching a handful of her skirt, the other a crumpled shopping list. Some days this weekly excursion had gone without incident, other times it hadn't.

For a child as active as he had been, Wednesday mornings had been for climbing trees, games of kick-about in the street and firing model airplanes out of his bedroom window. Not shopping.

He knew he'd been a pain on more than one occasion, dragging his feet around, picking up items they didn't need or want, and vocalising his disinterest with constant pleas to return home. Never before had he considered just how frustrating these times must have been for his mother.

Until now.

"Come on Doyle, you've been staring at pasta for five minutes. Just pick some will you?!"

Behind his shades, Doyle threw his eyes skywards and remained quiet, giving his impatient partner the silent treatment he could remember his mother dishing out to him as a boy. Only with Bodie, it didn't work as well.

"It's all going to end up in the same place you know."

"The recipe," Doyle began with the well-practised tone of a parent addressing a small child, "Needs conchiglie."

"You what?"

"Conchiglie."

"Never heard of it," Bodie dismissed airily.

Doyle stifled a snort, this revelation was hardly surprising coming from a man for whom cooking meant the bit you had to do before eating sausages or bacon. For Bodie fine dining consisted of a table by the window and a maitre'd, it was certainly not something people did in their own homes. Doyle however, understood the deeper, psychological implications of home cooking. A man who could cook was a sure sign of a husband-in-the-making and the women he dated appreciated him all the better for it. The women Bodie dated on the other hand, more often than not were only after a bed for the night. For Bodie, cooking had just not proved one of life's necessities.

"That's probably because you can't slide it straight from the packet into your mouth," the former policeman replied lazily, eyes still scanning the shelves before him.

"Well Raymond," Bodie sang back at him smugly, "We can't all be little Fanny Craddock's now can we? Some of us lead rich and exciting lives you know."

Doyle smiled despite himself.

"Oh yeah," he replied mildly, finally sweeping a packet off the shelf, "Since when has the barmaid of the Fiddling Monkey ever been described as rich or exciting?"

Bodie grinned devilishly,

"Since I found out she spent a very informative summer in India a few years back. Managed to pick up one or two things while she was there as well."

"Food poisoning?" Doyle asked, feigning ignorance as he moved on to the next item on his list. Bodie grinned,

"Far as I can make out she didn't leave herself a lot of time for eating."

Doyle muffled his amusement with a short coughing fit, turning his attentions back to the shopping.

"You know," he began seeking out the next aisle, Bodie following behind him dutifully, "I bet she'd love a nice home-made curry, enlightened girl like that."

Bodie frowned,

"You what? You must be joking! Next thing I know she'd be wanting to get married. You can't go around cooking for girls now a days Ray my son. That's where you're going wrong."

Doyle rolled his eyes,

"Thanks for the tip."

They came to a stop in front of stacks of tins, and Doyle raised his shades, planting them firmly on top of his head as he took in the labels. In the background the sound of a pair of high heels clacked towards him, and he turned as a hand reached out alongside him and plucked something from the shelf. He sidestepped out of her way, and turned towards her with a smile as she thanked him demurely.

She was a pretty girl, blonde curls bouncing softly as she strode past him, still smiling her appreciation. Doyle turned back to his lists, struggling to make sense of his own notations. _M'rms_. What were they?

He offered the list out to his side,

"What do you suppose - ," he stopped short on realising that Bodie was no longer beside him. In fact his partner seemed to have disappeared altogether. Doyle blinked, casting around the semi-empty aisle for any signs of him. Nothing. He sighed, turning his attention back to the task of food shopping, no doubt he'd find the ex-mercenary chatting up the woman at the desk, or leafing through some of the more dubious men's publications at the newspaper stand. Sometimes he had the concentration span of a toadstool.

Mushrooms! Of course! That was what _m'rms_ were.

At once he was off down the aisle, ticking another item off his checklist. Three down, plenty more to go, which wasn't necessarily a good thing since his arms were already bursting with ingredients. In fact he could have done with Bodie's help.

As he reached the end of the aisle he skipped sideways to avoid a woman dragging a small, grizzling child around roughly, looking stressed. He now looked upon them both with sympathy, not that he had much time to consider the matter, as a hand wrapped around the sleeve of his jacket, jerking him sharply behind the tall aisle shelving.

"What the - ,"

"Ssshhh."

Bodie was staring back at him, a finger pressed to his lips.

"Bodie," Doyle snapped in sufficiently hushed tones, shaking his sleeve from his partner's grasp and struggling hard not to drop anything, "What are you doing?"

His response was a nod in the direction of something nearby. Doyle turned to look, his eyes falling on the curly-haired blonde he'd seen earlier on. He turned back with a clueless shrug, his expression silently asking the questions.

"Samantha," Bodie replied quietly.

Suddenly Doyle was fully caught-up with the situation and an amused smirk slid across his lips,

"So that's the famous Samantha!" he smiled wider, enjoying the discomfort playing across his partner's face, "How's her roommate?"

"Moved out."

"Ah."

"Yep."

The pair of them ducked silently into the next aisle as Samantha breezed past, unaware of the attention, humming distractedly to herself. As they watched her pass, a thought occurred to Doyle and he turned to Bodie with a wide grin,

"You still got that saucepan she threw at you?"

Bodie stared back at him, decidedly unimpressed.

"Here's your chance to see if she wants it back," Doyle continued,

"You must be joking! I might as well throw myself to the lions."

As Bodie peeked his head around the side of the aisle once more, keeping tabs on the spurned-blonde, Doyle allowed himself a snort of laughter, and the glare he got in response did little to dampen his enjoyment.

"Glad I could please somebody," Bodie replied sulkily. Doyle chuckled,

"Well, the way you go through women this was bound to happen sooner or later," he reasoned, a with a wide smile stamped across his face, eyes twinkling with mirth, "London's only a small place you know."

"Yeah," replied Bodie flatly, "Thanks."

In the following silence Doyle turned to look out onto the shop floor again, Bodie hovering eagerly behind him.

"She gone?" he pressed hopefully. His reply was a shaking head.

"No."

Bodie groaned,

"And here I was thinking you were a slow shopper."

Doyle grinned,

"She's not shopping."

"What's she doing?"

"Talking."

"Who to?"

Doyle slid his shades down onto the bridge of his nose in order to get a better look over the dark rims. His face softened into a picture of delight as he exhaled in a low whistle of appreciation,

"A right little looker."

His interest now piqued, Bodie followed his partner's gaze, peering out from behind his temporary fall-out shelter to see the woman who had aroused Doyle's admiration.

Long brown hair was the first thing he saw, this was followed by a tracksuit clinging to a shapely body. He grinned despite himself, Ray was right, a real looker this one. Her conversation with Samantha seemed a little frosty, but that wasn't of much concern to him, since worrying about it only detracted from time that could be spent happily mind-mapping her body. She half-turned briefly in their direction in order to flick the hair from her eyes, and as she did, Bodie felt his heart sink, sliding back into the safety of the shelves with a groan,

"Oh no."

Doyle turned to him with a frown,

"What?"

"It's Louise."

"Louise?" Doyle was still none the wiser.

"The roommate."

"You're joking!"

"Does it look like I am?"

Doyle glanced over at him with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"You know, I might start shopping with you more often," he grinned as the latter won out, "It's very entertaining."

"This isn't funny Doyle," began Bodie, his frustration having the opposite effect to the one desired, "They see me you might as well start looking for another partner."

"Well we can't stay here forever! Or I can't, I've got a date with a woman who _doesn't _hate me."

"Yet…"

Doyle ignored him pointedly,

"At least one of us can handle a committed adult relationship, cooking and all."

Which reminded him, he needed mushrooms. He glanced down at the list again, annoyed to find he hadn't put down a particular type. He'd just have to guess. Re-gathering the groceries in his arms, he stepped out into the open.

Bodie's hand quickly pulled him back in again,

"What are you doing!" he hissed in amazement. Doyle shook him off irritably,

"I'm shopping, what do you think? They might want your head on a plate, but Rebecca is expecting pasta," as he spoke, he bundled his shopping into a speechless Bodie's arms, "I just need mushrooms. Meet you at the till."

And with that, he wandered out into plain view, making a special point of smiling widely at the somewhat frosty-looking women who were causing his partner so much concern.

Bodie watched him go in a combination of surprise and frustration, struggling to juggle the shopping he'd suddenly been lumbered with. The situation was all Doyle's fault of course, after all, it was him who had asked Bodie to drive him to the shops, with the promise of a pint afterwards, which, he now realised with growing despondency, was looking unlikely, especially with Doyle's date looming.

No. Actually that was unfair, it was not Doyle's fault, it was Cowley's. Yes, that was right. It was Cowley that had sent them on the mission that had resulted in Doyle's car being taken in for a new windscreen, and it was Cowley that had given them the rest of the afternoon off. Cowley was to blame.

Of course, it wasn't Cowley that had tried to juggle two equally beautiful, equally aggressive roommates at the same time.

"…that Bodie…"

He was brought back to his senses at the sound of his name, and he risked a sneaky glance around the side of the shelves. Samantha and Louise, still looking a little less-than-pleased to be in one another's company, were slowly wandering his way, evidently chatting about their fall-out.

"Don't talk to me about him!" Louise spat venomously, "He played us for a couple of fools!"

"Hmmm," agreed Samantha somewhat less-aggressively, "He was cute though."

"But a complete bastard all the same," Louise added. Samantha nodded vigorously,

"Oh yes, complete bastard."

Bodie blinked, acutely aware that a face-to-face meeting with the pair of them in tandem was not a very healthy prospect. He looked around wildly for somewhere better to hide, finding nothing.

"How's the flat?" he heard Louise venture hesitantly,

"Oh…it's still the same. Bit empty though."

As the conversation between the girls took a turn for the better, Bodie suddenly became aware of a low rumbling sound.

"You didn't rent the room out again?"

"No. Didn't feel right. It's yours."

A worker from the shop, looking distinctly bored in his chosen career, was wandering past pushing a tall stack of boxes on a small trolley.

"Do you mean…"

Bodie took his chance, dashing out and taking refuge behind the cardboard, quickly falling into step with the shop worker, who peered at him in surprise.

"It's still yours if you want," Samantha was saying as the convoy passed by. The delight was evident in Louise's voice.

"Of course!"

There was a short silence as the pair evidently hugged and made-up, and to Bodie's dismay just beside this display of friendly affection was where the shop-worker decided to unpack the boxes. He sighed heavily. Today, was just not his day. As the top box was removed, he ducked down onto the ground, nearly spilling a can of tomatoes onto the floor and thinking back to his times in the African jungle with wry amusement. This was far worse.

He needed to get to the till. The sooner he got there the sooner he could get out. Surely to god Ray would have picked out a couple of mushrooms by now?

He was going to have to make a break for it, and luckily he saw his chance as an elderly woman walked past, with a newspaper gently laid across the food in her basket. He stole it from her with little trouble, spreading it out wide with one hand and holding it up across his face as if deeply engrossed.

Now or never.

Taking his chances, he sauntered casually across the shop floor, listening to the girls' continuing chatter.

"Did he used to do that thing with you as well?"

Embarrassed giggling,

"Oh yes! That was weird!"

He was glad the newspaper was up, he didn't like to think what they were talking about, nor why they were laughing. Still, at least he was nearly in the clear.

"Sir!"

He felt his heart plummet. Damn.

"Sir!"

Taking a deep breath, he half-turned in the direction of the voice, newspaper still held up as though masking some sort of grotesque disfigurement. Bustling towards him in the corner of his vision was the young shop worker waving something around in the air like he was hailing a passing ship.

"You forgot this," he puffed, drawing level and holding out a packet. Bodie snatched it ferociously, resisting the urge to groan out loud. Conchiglie. He might have known. The boy was still hovering beside him awkwardly, obviously confused.

"Are you all right sir?" he ventured hesitantly.

"Yes thank you," Bodie replied complete with his famous false cheer, making sure to keep his voice low, "Those two girls…" he began quietly. The boy swivelled at once to cast around the aisle, "…Don't look!" Bodie snapped, watching startled eyes turn back in his direction, "…are they watching?"

The lad shrugged,

"Everyone is."

Fantastic.

"There's a tenner in my pocket. It's yours if you give me enough time to leave."

"Huh?"

Bodie gritted his teeth against the frustration, resisting the urge to beat the unhelpful assistant to death with Doyle's tin of tomatoes.

"Wake up will you kid!" he snapped, "Make sure they don't see me and the tenner's yours."

Finally, the boy seemed to cotton on, and he gave an exaggerated nod and tapped at the side of his nose, throwing in a wink for good measure. Slowly he slid his hand into the pocket of Bodie's trousers, starting at the snarl that bit back at him.

"Jacket pocket!"

"Oh!" he fished it out in embarrassment, curling the note into the palm of his hand like a Las Vegas card-shark, "Leave it to me sir. I know what it's like, you know, with the ladies," and with an extra nose tapping, he turned and headed off.

Bodie watched him go with vague amusement. He strongly doubted he boy knew one end of a woman from the other. Still, the strange little man was his only hope, besides which, the newspaper was starting to sag, and Doyle's groceries were in danger of sliding from his arms all together. He sighed impatiently,

_Hurry up son._

The familiar rumbling of wheels caught his attention, and shortly the crate of boxes rolled into view along with the grinning shop assistant. Bodie let the newspaper drop in relief, falling into step with the lad as he escorted him down the aisle with his own private screen of cardboard. He let out a sigh as they rounded the corner in sight of the counter.

From now on, Bodie decided, he was only going to date church girls. A little less exciting maybe, but the worst they could do when scorned was quote the gospels at him, which was a lot less painful than the various deaths he imagined Samantha and Louise had dreamed up for him over the last months.

"Like James Bond this is!" the boy beside him enthused, "I didn't think real life was ever this exciting!"

Bodie glanced over at him, unimpressed,

"You need to get out more."

The lad didn't appear to hear him.

"I'll leave this here for now, in case you need it again, but don't worry," he said with exaggerated confidence, "I've got your back."

He turned and headed off back down the aisle, leaving Bodie to sigh ruefully,

"Lucky me."

As the groceries in his arms made a move for the floor, he stepped forward to pile them carefully onto the empty counter, where a disinterested woman was sat reading a magazine. Clearly whatever motivation techniques the staff were using were falling somewhat short of the mark.

"You buying these now?" the woman asked without even looking up.

"Not yet love, I'm just waiting for someone."

"Me," came a voice right beside his ear making him jump. He whirled round to find Doyle grinning at him in amusement, clutching a handful of mushrooms.

"You took your time didn't you?" he snapped back irritably,

"Well a romantic meal like this doesn't just throw itself together you know! I'm going for perfection," Doyle replied merrily, moving around him to add the final ingredient to the items on the counter, the act finally spurring the woman into grudging bag packing.

"Well you could have spared me a thought you know." Bodie replied in a huffy tone.

Doyle grinned at him,

"Did you miss me?" he cooed, fishing around in his pocket for a note amongst the jingling change, noting Bodie's stony silence, "Got a tenner?"

Bodie glowered,

"I did have."

Doyle shrugged, handing over a pile of coins to the unimpressed looking woman,

"Sorry love, haven't got anything else."

She slid it off the counter-top with a solid stare, slowly totting it up as each coin fell into her hand. Bodie was already hovering in the doorway.

"Come on Doyle!" he hissed desperately, clearly sensing his escape. Doyle rolled his eyes and collected the brimming bag off the counter. All his partner needed was a pair of shorts and a bloody knee and he could match Doyle's earlier memories of himself as a boy. Which made him his ever-patient mother.

"Hold on I'm bloody coming!" although his mother had never spoken to him like that.

As he passed through the open door that was impatiently being held open for him, the newspaper Bodie had seen fit to add to the shopping slid off the top of the bag and onto the floor. Doyle, hands already full, stared across at his partner, conveying the comment with his eyes.

_Well pick it up then_.

Bodie sighed dejectedly, stepping off the pavement and back into the shop. The freedom of the outside world was tantalising, he could almost taste the pint promised to him. Still, he thought as he stooped down towards the floor, two seconds more wouldn't hurt. Or at least, that was what he continued to think until two pairs of high-heeled shoes stepped into view and stopped before him. He froze.

Damn.

"Well, well, if it isn't the man of the moment."

He looked up hesitantly,

"Louise," he smiled, "Samantha. Small world."

"Too small."

During his time in CI5, Bodie had learnt quite a lot about interrogations. Unlike the SAS, under Cowley it was often necessary to get all one could from a suspect. Beatings and pain he could take, this was something else. Forget the menace he and Doyle usually showed in the interrogation rooms, all they needed were a string of scorned ex-girlfriends wearing 'that look' and the terrorists would be rattling off the names of everyone they've ever had so much as eye-contact with.

He cleared his throat uneasily, noting the crossed arms before him. Both women meant business.

Sensing his moment to depart Doyle leant forward to fish the keys from Bodie's pocket, producing them with a cheery jingle. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder,

"I'll go and wait in the car."

As he sauntered out onto the street, a thought came to him, and he paused briefly in the doorway,

"Oh, Samantha…" he began, watching as she glanced up, surprised, "Is that pan of yours any good for pasta? Only if it is don't let him give it back will you. I might need to borrow it tonight."

And with that, as Bodie's eyes narrowed murderously and the combined fury of the girls' began to bubble over, Doyle stepped out into the fresh afternoon air with a sigh, smiling to himself as he did.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. Shopping with Bodie was brilliant fun.


End file.
